


I Did All I Could

by BreeTaylor



Series: Soulmate AUs [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreeTaylor/pseuds/BreeTaylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night shifts were never fun, but Ryan was there to make them less boring. Until he wasn’t, and Gavin’s life was never the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Did All I Could

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little outside my normal writing genre, but I'm pretty happy with the final result.

Gavin wasn’t quite sure how he ended up where he was. He’d left London with head held high and dreams in the forefront of his mind. All of that quickly faded when he arrived in The Big City. Things stopped going right almost immediately after he stepped off the plane. From losing his bags, to a nasty cab driver, to the keys to his apartment not being where the seller was supposed to leave them. Sure, not every day went quite that bad, but it didn’t change the fact that he somehow found himself working the night shift at the 24-hour café downtown, bored out of his mind as he sat for hours on end without a customer in sight. Sure some nights were busy and it reminded him just how  _awake_ the city was all the time, but his average night was far from eventful.

There was one thing Gavin always looked forward to, though. One constant light in his usually dull nightly routine. And that thing happened to be named Ryan. Ryan came in every night at exactly sixteen minutes past two in the morning. He always more or less… fell through the door, looking worn and tired and much more like the businessmen that crowded the shop during the day. For the first little while, Gavin thought maybe the guy was homeless. But over time he learned that Ryan just didn’t enjoy sleeping. Apparently he couldn’t get his brain to shut off, which made Gavin smile because he  _would_ be that type.

Over the months that Gavin continued to work through what he was still trying to call the slum of his year, he got to know Ryan quite well. He worked for a company that designed web pages for some big name companies. He enjoyed the work well enough, but he found that more times than not he would find himself working  _hours_  past closing. Gavin loved that Ryan still managed to have a passion for his job, even though it wasn’t necessarily what he’d always dreamed (he wouldn’t tell Gavin what that was, but he promised it wasn’t web design). He admired it more than anything else about Ryan. He wished he could find the same content in his own life, instead of living paycheck to paycheck, desperately searching day and night for an opening in something that could thrust him into his dream job.

Each passing day made him feel even more hopeless than the last. Nothing he was doing was helping, and he was starting to question why in god’s name he left his  _home_  for this. Six months in, and he still found himself at the café five days of the week. The other two he buried himself below video games and his favorite movies.

“Hey Ryan,” He said as the older man tumbled in. “How was work?”

“Don’t ask.” Ryan heaved himself onto the barstool, completely surpassing the cash register and thoroughly confusing the (miraculous) other customer there as he reached past the ledge to grab the cup of coffee Gavin always made just before he came in. “Days like this make it hard sometimes, Gav.”

“Mm, tell me about it.” He finished off the lady’s soy, half-sweet, no-fat, extra hot, extra whip latte, handing it to her with the most convincing smile he could muster to hide the annoyance at the drink. “Have a nice night, love.”

“Thank you,” She smiled, blushing and sliding a bill over to him before scurrying out.

“Every time, hey?” Ryan asked with a smile. Gavin watched as he brought the porcelain mug to his mouth, taking a deep breath as he took in the smell. Gavin picked the bill off the counter—a five this time!—and, sure enough, she had written her number across the front.

“It’s going to be really hard to explain this to my landlord.” Gavin frowned, “I sure hope he doesn’t try and call the poor girls.”

“Why don’t  _you_  call one of the poor girls?” Ryan asked, “Surely you found at least one of them attractive.”

Gavin shrugged it off, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You gotta get yourself out there, man. You’re never going to find someone if you don’t try.”

Ryan had been in a relationship for almost three years. He had met her in a bookstore a week after he moved to New York, and they had hit it off almost instantly. Yet another thing Gavin admired about him. When he first came over, he’d tried to see the amazing night life of New York, but most of the girls he’d met focused more on his accent and “European charm” than what he was actually trying to say. None of them showed the slightest interest in what he was saying, and after the first couple times he’d brought those kinds of girls home, he got bored.

Then he’d gotten a job that forced him to work nights because the pay was better and  _maybe_  he could stop struggling to come up with rent every month.

“Hey, you okay?” Ryan asked, “Maybe you need this more than I do.”

Gavin smiled, “Sorry, completely zoned out there.”

“I could tell.” Ryan took another sip of his coffee. Gavin squirmed under his grasp, trying to busy himself with  _something_  to get away from the gaze. Unfortunately, he was once again faced with the realization that he’d already done almost everything that needed to be done.

“Right, well.” Gavin coughed, “I’m going to go back to reading if you don’t mind.”

Ryan shook his head, gesturing to the book with a smirk that made Gavin feel too much like he  _knew_. He tried to read, but ended up rereading the same line over and over. With a sigh, he closed the book.

“Seriously, Gav. You’re more distracted than usual, what’s up?”

Gavin shrugged, “I’unno. Just… trying to find my motivation again.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I came here I was certain that things would be brilliant. I thought I’d find a good job that I loved, that I’d move out of the rubbish apartment I rented, that I’d find someone. I’unno. I just thought things would be better, but everything I do seems to leave me in the same place as always: working the night shift so I can make barely enough money to pay for rent without being completely broke every month. I have zero social life. I mean, you’re probably my only friend and you’re a bloody customer.” Gavin sighed, “I think I’m going back.”

“What?”

“To England. I think I’m going to go back for a while.”

“Oh.”

The rest of the night was too quiet. Usually the store would be filled with playful banter, arguments that would never be settled, and pointless conversation. But now every word was tinged with some sort of tension. As if their relationship was a guitar string wound too tight, ready to snap at any second. When six rolled around and Gavin found himself having to say good bye to Ryan, things felt too different, too weird.

“When are you going?”

“Probably in the next couple of weeks. I just have to move my stuff into storage, I can’t afford to keep my apartment while I’m over there.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Gavin asked, but Ryan only gave a slight nod.

* * *

He didn’t see Ryan the next day, or any day after that for the following weeks before he left. He boarded the plane with a heavy heart and a lot of confusion, wondering why Ryan had decided now was a good time to stop talking to him. Gavin finally opened up to him and  _now_ he chose to just shut down? By the time Gavin hit Heathrow, his confusion had transformed to whispers of anger. His parents didn’t ask, and Gavin didn’t explain. It felt good to be home, even if something in his gut felt off.

After a month, things went drastically wrong.

All the movies portrayed the end of the world as something that would be predictable. They always showed a disease that started small and grew over time, giving the heroes the chance to get away and solve all of the world’s problems. That’s not how it actually happened. No, the ‘zombie apocalypse’ wasn’t some slow-building disease. Almost overnight, half of Canada was turned, and they had started inching closer to America. All airports and docks shut down as all other countries slammed their doors closed. There was no “world vs. the virus”. The world gave up as soon as they saw how fast the virus was moving and there was nothing Gavin could do but watch as America grew quieter and quieter.

For the first week, he was in hysterics. He shouted at his parents, his brother, his best friend for keeping him from leaving, not that he could if he tried. They didn’t understand what had happened, because Gavin hadn’t told them about Ryan. Because he didn’t realize just how much Ryan meant to him until he heard “New York has been compromised, survivors unlikely” on the radio. His heart had stopped, and he felt numb. Everything around him seemed to freeze as the words echoed through his head.  _Survivors unlikely._

He had screamed, and his mother had dropped the glass she was holding as she rushed to his side. Gavin tried to explain what was going on, that  _Ryan_ was over there and  _he had to be okay_ , but everything blurred into a series of sounds and sobs. After that week, he shut down. He shut down until the media stopped telling him that America was a wasteland. He stopped listening to the radio all together, stopped reading the papers. He didn’t want to know anything about it and moved into some sort of façade of his old life. He refused to acknowledge that the event had happened, instead losing himself in the dreamland where he had never gone to America.

Dan poked his head into Gavin’s room just over a month after his world collapsed in on itself. “B, you awake?”

“Of course.”

“I have news ab—”

“I told you I don’t want to hear anything in the news, Dan.”

“But B—”

Gavin threw a glare at him, “I don’t care.”

“Well  _I_ don’t care. I’m bloody tired of seeing you like this.” Dan chucked the newspaper at him, pages flying out as it arched through the air. “They think they’ve found people in America. People who weren’t infected.”

* * *

Turns out the army was looking for volunteers willing to aid in any clean-up/recovery that they could overseas. Gavin didn’t want to hope. He didn’t want to think that Ryan would be among the 20,000 people that made it out of the 320,000,000. He  _couldn’t_  get his hopes up, yet he found himself taking the train into London on the day that they were due to fly out, his mother’s confusion and fear ripe in his mind. He was among 200 other people who volunteered.  _200_  people was all they got. Gavin felt sick. How could only  _200_  people care enough to help?

The debriefing was a lot of warnings slummed together by a terrifyingly loud soldier. There weren’t any more zombies, apparently. But there were a lot of corpses, and doctors weren’t sure if touching them could transfer the disease. Basically, stay away from everything dead. They spoke about routines and jobs and a whole bunch of stuff Gavin couldn’t focus on, and then he gave everyone a stern look and raised his voice impossibly louder.

“I know many of you are hoping to find a loved one alive. I wish I could tell you that each of you would find that person, but unfortunately your chances aren’t high. Don’t get your hopes up.”

And with that, they were all boarding the first two planes to leave the country in over six months.

The flight was long, longer than usual. Everyone was tense, and the woman next to him kept bursting into tears as she spoke about her husband—who had been in Texas on a business trip when the disease hit. As they flew over America Gavin couldn’t really see anything different. No flaming buildings or hordes of undead. Just… land. Lots and lots of land.

When they finally arrived at the airport they were led off the plane and onto the airstrip where each of them were given a pistol. Gavin almost dropped the device as the cool metal hit his palm. This hadn’t been part of the briefing.

“I know most of you have probably never shot a gun, and I’m sure fewer—if any—are experienced. Unfortunately this is a necessary measure we have to take. Troops have been landed here for two weeks, but we don’t want to take  _any_ risks. If you see something that should be dead—shoot it. If you miss, shoot it again.”

The lady from the plane coughed, her grip on the gun weak, “Um… I don’t feel comfortable—”

“I know. But you’ll feel a hell of a lot more uncomfortable if you’re face-to-face with an Undead without a weapon.”

Everyone more or less shut up after that. They were given a crash-course on how to shoot and then they were piled into cars and leaving their way out in the rear-view mirror.

Gavin had never been to Austin, but he was sure that it hadn’t been this desolate before the break-out. It wasn’t anything like Ryan had described it. Instead, there were abandoned cars and houses _everywhere_. The streets were almost unusable and they drove most of the way on grass.

Most of the corpses had clearly been moved or disposed of by the past couple of groups of troops, but every once and a while there would be one. Sometimes whole, but usually not. According to the news, they zombies had starved to death. Again—re-death? Whatever the survivors had done, it had worked. It was a movie miracle if Gavin had ever seen one.

They approached the middle of Austin and Gavin saw why. There was a wall—at  _least_  three stories tall—and it surrounded a large chunk of downtown. It seemed to be made of any scrap metal they could find, but it was thick. There were deep scratch marks on the outside, but not a sign of imperfection on the inside. It was as if it was straight out of some stupid book, and Gavin’s heart fluttered with hope once again.

The city was so  _alive_. There were people farming, laundry hanging, and conversation filling the air. It was  _life_  and it was nothing like he was expecting but everything he was hoping for. He scanned the crowd for any signs of Ryan, his face as clear in his mind as the last day he had seen him.

“Alright, folks. I’d like you to meet the masterminds behind this amazing fortress,” The soldier shouted as they climbed out of cars. Gavin felt something touch his leg, and he jumped nearly a foot in the air only to look down and find a small, Siamese-looking cat. “This is Burnie Burns, Gustavo Sorola, and Geoff and Griffon Ramsey. They began setting all of this into motion shortly after the breakout begun, and have welcomed any survivors since.”

Gavin bent down, picking the cat up as he half-heartedly listened to the soldier talk about how  _heroic_ their deeds had been. “Hello there, what’s your name?” He asked the cat, “Do you have an owner?”

It mewed at him, rubbing it’s face against his hand, “I s’ppose it doesn’t really matter right now does it? Well, I’ll call you Smee.”

He gently lowered the cat back to the ground, only to have it wrap itself around his ankles. When he was assigned to an apartment just down the block from where they had stopped, Smee followed him there. It had been an old Radisson hotel, and inside amazingly looked more normal than Gavin was expecting. Everything was fairly clean, though the Starbucks and restaurant on the lower lobby were void of food, and the power had long since been cut. His room was on the seventh floor, and it was a heck of a trek up the stairs—Smee following every step of the way.

He was going to be sharing his room with one of the survivors for “safety” purposes. Apparently they were all being paired up with survivors so they wouldn’t try to do anything stupid or go out of bounds. His survivor was called Michael, Michael Jones. He had been in New Jersey at the time of the Outbreak and had managed to gather a handful of survivors on his way to Austin, including a whole bunch from New York.

He wasn’t in the room when Gavin arrived, and it gave him the chance to throw his stuff down on the bed, along with the unloaded gun. Smee curled up amongst his things, purring up a storm. The view out of the window definitely wasn’t what Gavin had been expecting. Everything within the walls looked vaguely normal, but everything past that? It was barren, a wasteland that reminded him why he was here.

“So, you’re Gavin?” He jumped at the voice, turning to find someone only slightly shorter than him with red, curly hair.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t look like the type to—”

“Do you know anyone named Ryan?” Gavin blurted with more desperation than he was hoping for.

“Ah, that’s why.”

“Please,” Gavin took a step forwards, “Just… anyone?”

“Dude, I know that there’s not a  _lot_ of survivors, but there’s still 20, 000 of us. We’ve got a fair amount of Ryan’s.”

Gavin’s shoulders fell, his heart still pounding loudly in his chest. Smee mewed from the bed, moving to nudge gently at his fingertips. Michael frowned, but was smarter than to say anything about the animal just yet. “Look, man. If the Ryan you’re looking for is out there, we’ll find him. Promise.”

“Thanks, Michael.” He laughed, flopping down onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling, Smee curling into a ball on his stomach. “I know it’s a bit of a dumb hope but…” He sighed.

“I know. It’s good to hope.” Michael was still eyeing the cat nervously, “Where’d you get that thing?”

“Huh?” Gavin looked down at Smee, “I’unno, he just kind of showed up. Won’t leave my side now.”

“Great.”

“Allergic to cats?”

“Yeah, so just keep him on your side of the room.”

* * *

Michael, it turns out, had quite the temper. He  _hated_  that Gavin stayed up later and got up early, he hated the cat, and he  _hated_  that Gavin was pretty much useless when it came to any sort of heavy-lifting. Still, he had a kind heart. He’d made a small family for himself, and as the days went on he introduced Gavin to everyone. There was Geoff, the oldest and only one with any actually experience shooting a gun due to his time in the army. Then, there was Jack. He was the nicest of the bunch, but also spent the least time with them. Ray was quiet, but determined. And then there was Lindsay, who Michael had met first and was pretty much his opposite. She kept his head on straight, from what Gavin could tell, and they wouldn’t admit it but he  _knew_  they were together.

Smee stuck around during the whole three weeks that he was settling in, following him everywhere and mewling at anyone who objected. Not that anyone could for long, he had an adorable charm that even Michael had succumbed to. During the first week, Gavin had spent every waking second looking for Ryan in the crowds of people. By the second week, he was starting to lose hope. The third week, he’d all but given up.

He asked around  _everywhere_ , but he didn’t know Ryan’s last name and all anyone could seem to say was “Which Ryan?”

It wasn’t until the end of the third week, at the big potluck dinner, that Gavin finally saw his opportunity. Everyone in the city was required to attend the big meal that was to be held in the convention center, and Gavin  _knew_  that if Ryan was there, this would be his chance.

He was jittery as he got ready, hands shaking in anticipation. He tried to dress as recognizably as possible in dark jeans and a dark t-shirt, similar to his old uniform. He got Lindsay to cut his hair to a similar length and trimmed his facial hair as close to the length as he could manage.

“Dude, breathe.” Michael said as they were leaving the hotel. The stairwell was packed with the other volunteers and their ‘guides’. Everyone’s moods were vastly brighter than when they had arrived. Everyone, except Gavin.

The convention center was about ten times worse. The main hall was absolutely  _packed_ , the room dimmer than it would’ve been before the Outbreak as they tried to illuminate it was solar-generated lights. Still, Gavin craned his neck to look over the crowd, searching for any familiar face. He felt Smee at his ankles still, but didn’t look down. If there was the slightest chance he would miss seeing Ryan, Gavin wouldn’t take it.

There were speeches and tear-filled stories as the night progressed, but Gavin couldn’t pay the slightest bit of attention if he  _wanted_  to. His mind was focused on all the what-if’s of the evening. What if Ryan died? What if Ryan didn’t  _want_  to see him? What if Ryan knew he had been looking and didn’t want to be found? What if he would never see Ryan again?

When they were  _finally_ encouraged to mingle and enjoy the meal, Gavin was off. He pushed through the crowd, saying Ryan’s name periodically. He didn’t receive many strange looks anymore: almost everyone knew who he was looking for. What he didn’t expect was for people to start moving to the side, creating a path. Each person’s face lighting up in a bright smile as they took a half step to the side until they revealed…

Time felt as if it had stopped, his heartbeat loud in his ears as his eyes landed on the man he had spent months obsessing over. They both saw each other for the first time in too long. With a slight nudge from Michael, and  without being fully conscious of it, Gavin’s feet were pulling him forward, running until he was in Ryan’s arms.

He looked so different now, so worn, but he was warm and breathing and  _alive_ and that’s all that mattered. His face was pressed against Ryan’s, arms wrapped around his neck in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable but there were no complains. Instead, five little words were breathed into his ear, “I thought you were dead.”

Gavin pulled back so he could look him in the eyes, “ _Me_? Ryan, I thought… I was sure that you…” He took a deep breath, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I didn’t know you’d left,” Ryan admitted, “I couldn’t get a hold of your landlady after the Outbreak, but your old boss told me where you lived. All your stuff was still there.”

“I hadn’t had the chance to move it into storage…”

Ryan hugged him tighter, pressing their foreheads together, “The slim chance you were alive is what kept me going after Amy turned.”

“Oh, Ryan…” Gavin remembered the name as his girlfriend. “I’m sorry.”

“We had broken up right before the Outbreak. The night of our fight, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because I had feelings for someone else,” Ryan admitted, and then his lips were on Gavin’s and despite everything, it felt right. He was mildly aware of the crowd of clapping people, and of Smee purring loudly as he moved between their legs, but his focus was fully on the fact that Ryan was alive and he was finally able to do this. He was finally able to say what he needed to say.

“I love you, Ryan. Always have.”

Ryan smiled, “Me too. I love you too.” 


End file.
